Emeralds and Rubies
by NiceSlytherin
Summary: The next generation of Weasleys is... different. A (hopefully) longer fic on the topic of house rivalry. Told from varied POVs and rated T just in case.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! This story is cowritten by me (Nice Slytherin), and my friends blackriddle711, pandaforever, and Noble Blue 26. Check out some of their other work too!**

**Anyway, I'm really excited about this story because Rose/Scorpius is one of my favorite ships, and the way we will write the characters is pretty close to how I imagine them in my head (because truly they're too amazing for a bunch of fans to try writing). Oh, right, disclaimers...**

**We do not own the characters in this story, nor the world they live in. They are their own people, possibly in an alternate universe, and brought into ours by JK Rowling. However, the writing (other than some quotes) and the character's personalities (other than what JK has already established about Rose and Scorpius) are our own.**

**I know this is not canon. Here, Rose is fifteen while Lily is eleven, but they _should _be about two years apart. I just wanted this all to happen at the same time while being reasonable, so I moved some birth dates around. If you like this kind of context, the story takes place in the 2019-20 school year.**

**Starting new things is always hard for me, so please, bear with me and don't quit after the first chapter.**

**So before I finish, I just want to add that we really appreciate comments and jump up and down and start scream-singing them out loud to a favorite tune whenever we get one, and that also we might not have perfect grammar and so on because we don't like to edit that much, and we apologize in advance. And without further ado, enjoy!**

Prologue:

-Rose-

"So that's little Scorpius. Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie. Thank goodness you inherited your mother's brains." Dad glared at a family off to one side. The mother, with long brown waves of hair and sharp features, brushed a cluster of blond hair from her son's scowling face. He had already changed into his robes, and I quickly noticed that the Slytherin symbol, a fanged green serpent, had been charmed onto the breast even though it normally stayed blank until we were sorted. Someone was definitely counting on being evil. At least that's what my father had told me about the houses:

_"We'll be proud of you no matter what. Just don't get into Slytherin. Slytherin's evil, Ravenclaw's smart, Hufflepuff's… well… and Gryffindor's brave. I'll send you chocolate frogs if you get into Gryffindor."_

Hugo punched me and I realized I had been staring in Scorpius's direction. Not at him, of course not. I just did that sometimes. Went so far into my own world that I forgot about the others around me. That didn't prove anything, I convinced myself.

That was three years ago. Now I look back and realize that was actually the beginning. The beginning of the most controversial relationship Hogwarts has seen in years.

Hugo says I'm a hopeless romantic. Maybe I am. But here's my story, and while it may appear dramatic, it is certainly true.

Chapter 1:

-Fred II-

My sister is insane. The first thing she does as a Hogwarts student is make a Muggle car start screeching at us. The lights flash on and off and it cries "waah, waah, waah" as she backs our luggage cart away from the dent she made on the rear. Puck, her owl, flaps his wings nervously but she just propels the cart towards the train station, laughing. Mum looks around anxiously, then takes some paper Muggle money out from her pocket and places a few bills on the windshield. "I hope that's enough," she says.

By the time we enter the actual station, Roxy is nowhere to be seen, lost in the sea of Muggles trying to catch their train. We push through the throng until we are between platforms nine and ten, and get there just in time to watch my sister thrust the cart towards the wall until it seems to go straight into it, then sprint through it herself, squealing. I peer across my teetering stack of luggage to see Muggles staring at the section of the wall where she disappeared. It took a few minutes before Mum deemed it safe for the rest of us to enter platform nine and three quarters inconspicuously.

We struggle past anxious first years already in their brand-new, jet black robes, second years reuniting with friends, relieved to not be alone this time around, third years babbling about new courses, fourth years abandoning their parents to tease younger kids, proud fifth years with prefect badges pinned to their chests, solemn sixth years comparing O.W.L. grades, and seventh years returning to their home-away-from home, but for the last time. "Ah, Harry!" Dad grins as we come to stand in front of my uncle and his family. "Are Ron and Hermione here yet?"

"No, not yet. Hi Freddie," Aunt Ginny says to me.

"Is Roxane excited and ready for Hogwarts?" Uncle Harry asks.

"Excited, maybe. Ready, I'm not as sure." Everyone laughs. They know Roxy. "And Lily?"

"Oh, she's been packed for weeks." More laughs. They know Lily too. "Right now she's with her brothers. I'm a bit worried that they find her clingy, but it's sweet how she adores them."

The volume peaks at the end of the platform. Harry looks down at his watch. "It's time," he says as the Hogwarts Express pulls in.

Lily, a petite redhead with bright eyes who looks just like her mother, dashes towards us. Her father helps her get her trunk down from the cart. "Got everything?"

Then Mum and Dad look at each other. They're probably determined to find Roxy and cover her with kisses, but my main concern is that she has the cart carrying my bags. I do not trust her with what I'll have to live off of until December, especially my gigantic stash of chocolate frogs.

But you have to give her some credit, because by the time most of the crowd has cleared (since they're already on board) she appears, breathless. She drops my luggage on my toes and takes her own, then kisses each of our parents on the cheek. "Bye!" Roxy says as she climbs onto the train.

By now I'm one of the only kids still on the platform. I hug my parents. "Keep an eye on your sister, please," Dad says. "Wouldn't want her to turn out like me and-" He stops, but smiles at me. I get onto the train just in time- the doors close on their own and a hoot that makes me cringe signals I should probably grab hold of something. The train shudders, then starts to chug steadily. I put my nose to a window to grin back at my waving parents. It's only when I can't see the station anymore that I roll my trunk down the corridor to find my friends.

"Another year, another adventure, eh?" James says.

"That sounds exactly like the kind of thing you'd say," Molly laughs.

After some psychological tug-of-war, I grudgingly stand up and open my trunk. "Chocolate frogs, anyone?"


	2. Chapter 2

-Lily II-

"Do you think I'll get into Gryffindor?" My brothers turn around.

"Of course you will, dummy. You're a Potter," scoffs James. He returns to watching Fred stuff liquorice wands into his nose, but Al searches my eyes. I look away, but take his hand extended on the empty seat between us.

A quarter moon is out and the silhouettes of trees look like dementors in their swirling black cloaks by the time we pull into Hogsmeade station. James reaches up to get my trunk for me from the rack I can't touch even on my toes. "You're going to take the boats- all the first years do. Head for Hagrid- the huge ancient guy." Huge ancient guy?

It turns out James couldn't have given a more accurate description. "First years, o'er here!" calls a man as tall as the old lampposts and so wide it takes four hyper first years standing in front of him to conceal his enormous stomach. He wears an old leather jacket that must have been tailor-made to fit, and a shaggy beard turning gray. "First years!"

I lug my trunk across the cobbled boulevard to deposit it in a pile of other luggage and pets. Hagrid catched my eye as I join the group. He smiles down at me, taking note of my ginger hair and freckled face. "Another Weasley! Welcome!" he laughs.

"Actually, I'm Lily. Lily Potter." Hagrid's eyes grow wide and the group of students hush as several stare at me.

"Oho! Potter's girl. I knew yer Dad- I watched him die. Well, 'cept not really. Well…" he shakes his mane of tangled hair threaded with white. "Anyway, we'll be takin' the boats 'cross the lake. Scenic way, yeah?" We follow him down to a wooden dock that creaks and sinks as Hagrid steps onto it. About twenty rowboats with peeling red paint wait for us, not attached in any way to the dock. "Hop on. Three per boat." I scan the group for my cousins. Roxane has already joined two other students who are gleefully shifting their weight to make the boat tip, but Hugo grins back at me nervously. "Careful, now."

Hugo and I walk along the dock to the next empty boat. I climb in carefully as he furrows his brow and pats the side of the boat. "Where are the oars?" A girl with shiny black hair joined in one long braid down her back and tan skin steps in and sits on the bench across from us.

"Hi, I'm Asha."

"Lily Potter. And this is Hugo, my cousin."

Hugo waves. "You're Muggle-born?"

"Yeah. How did you know?"

"Almost everyone else seems to know who we are."

Asha's mouth forms an O. "Wait. You're- your parents are the Golden Trio?"

We nod. This term had arisen sometime in the years after the war, partly based off the premise that Dad, Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione were the ideal Gryffindors, whose colors were red and gold.

"That's really cool! Although I suppose you've had enough people gaping at you. So, are you both excited for Hogwarts?"

"Lily's been ready since the letter came. Her _oldest brother's_ letter." I elbow him.

"Alright, everyone's in, yeah? No missing toads?" Hagrid says, looking around at all of us. He climbs into a boat which goes notably lower into the water from the pressure. He takes out a long, weathered pink object that might have once been an umbrella and taps the side of his boat. All of them start to glide away from the dock. "Away we go!"

The boats move swiftly through the murky water. Hugo peers over the side of our boat. "I think I just saw something!"

Soon we are close enough to see a wall through the fog blanketing the lake. I look up and gasp. Asha spins around in her seat.

Hogwarts. Nothing my brothers have told me could give me an idea of this, this gigantic castle towering above us in the dark. To the left I can see students descending a row of carriages without horses and walking up a staircase and through the gates. However, we are heading towards a gloomy opening in the stone wall. When we enter, we are completely engulfed in darkness but for the lanterns attached the boats. We come to a stop at a dock where others are already getting off. "Come along," growls Hagrid. We clamber up a steep staircase for what seems like forever until we reach a dim hallway lighted by candles. There, a lady with pale sking and strands of gray in her tight black bun stands in beside a pair of wide doors with her hands clasped in front of her.

"Hello, new students, and welcome! I am Professor Vector, Deputy Headmistress and Arithmancy professor. I hope you had a nice train ride and enjoyed the traditional view from the boats. Now, through these doors the rest of the students are eagerly waiting to watch you get sorted. Here are a few notes before that happens. First, sorting is a very old custom at our school, which we would like you to respect. However, there is absolutely no need for you to be worried, and you will not be asked to do or be anything than what you already can. Lastly, and please keep this in mind tonight and onwards, children, your house doesn't need to define you. The sorting hat chooses what it thinks best for each of you, but being sorted should give you more options and inspiration, not limit them, because being with people like you can motivate you to be the best _you_ can be. And with that, I think you are ready." Vector snaps her fingers and the double doors swing open. "Enter in an orderly fashion, please," she says, beckoning the apprehensive kids at the front of the cluster in. When we reach the doors, I gasp again. There is the dining hall, with a long table for each of the four houses, just like Al said, and at the front of the room, a table placed horizontally where the professors sit. In the very middle, on a throne-like chair, a woman with wrinkles on her forehead that suggest she scrunched it too much and a moss-green hat examines us with interest. The Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall.

Vector positions a three-legged stool before the staff table, and above it, with careful fingers, the Sorting Hat, a faded black wizard's hat that for now lies motionless. She then looks up at us and nods, and the group shuffles past encouraging smiles and fist-bumping siblings to the front. We wait. Confused whispers from a few first years echo. Then a fold in the hat opens like a mouth. But instead of singing in its famous gravelly voice, it starts… beatboxing.

_Yo! Hey y'all, I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I'm tryin' something new,_

_So I hope you like this rap!_

_In yo history of magic lessons you'll learn about my owner_

_Who used to sort with his mates but chose me in turn to show ya_

_Where you're s'posed to be_

_So you can thrive here the best_

_I know that I'm a hat_

_But of my kind I'm the smartest_

_Now, since a warty hog led us to found this school,_

_Students go into houses, all equally cool_

_So before I sort you_

_I'll tell you a bit_

_About these sections of Hogwarts_

_Where you'll find your fit_

_Griffindors, they like to steal the show,_

_With courage and bravery, and they say hello_

_To Hufflepuff, much like them, but only for good causes_

_They're selfless and kind- oh I'm out of breath- my other songs have pauses _(gulp)

_If you're ambitious and clever, yet don't always work well in a team_

_I might just sort you into Slytherin, the silver and the green._

_Then those in Ravenclaw, studious and wise_

_They're eager to learn and see the world for their own eyes._

_I think that's all, so I'll wrap this up_

_Win points for your team to get the house cup_

_Try your hardest at school, no matter who you are_

_And be wary of dark magic, though this year it just might stay afar_

_That's all folks, so enjoy the sorting_

_Watch your step as you climb up- I hope I wasn't too boring._

_Peace out! Wurd!_

The hall goes silent, then applause and whistles thunder around. The fold in the hat twists into a proud smile. I have a feeling it had never received this much praise. Professor Vector waits until the noise died down, then clears her throat and unrolls a long scroll. "When I call your name, sit on the stool and I will place the Sorting Hat on your head. Once you have been sorted, join the rest of your house at the appropriate table. The first to be sorted is Ashby, Meredith."

The crowd parts for a spindly girl with mousy hair walks to the stool and sits down. She watches the hat as it descends, then flinches. She squeezes her eyes shut until the hat cries, "Gryffindor!" Meredith jumps up from the stool so fast the hat falls off. Vector picks it up, chuckling to herself, while Meredith heads over to a table accented with reds and golds.

Vector continues calling out names. Hugo squeezes Lily's hand.

"Dubashi, Asha." Asha moves as if on hot coals until she reaches the stool. She looks down shyly as the hat is placed on her head.

"Gryffindor!" Asha looks up in surprise.

After about a dozen names, it comes. "Potter, Lily." Murmurs rise from the students behind them. A few teachers who had started to doze off in their chairs stir, and McGonagall sits up even straighter. It seems like time slows down as I walk to the stool. I know that sounds cheesy, but that can really happen. Vector gives me a fond half-smile as the hat slips over my eyes.

_A Potter! These are almost as easy as Weasleys. But- you're different from your brothers. Brave, yes, but only because of discipline. Quite witty… I think it'd better be… _"Slytherin!"

_No no no no_, I plead. _I'm not like them. I'm a Potter!_ But Professor Vector is already taking off the hat and calling for Pullman, Ronald.

As I take my seat on the edge of the Slytherin table, a few students slide away. They're watching me as I glare at the Sorting Hat.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for commenting, Wolf! So hopefully this story's starting to grow on you... I'm still figuring out which POVs I'm going to keep on doing, hopefully I don't confuse you! Ok, chapter three... Allons-y!**

-Roxane-

After my geeky cousin Hugo is sorted into Gryffindor, the old witch calls my name. I hop onto the stool. As soon as I feel the weight of the Sorting Hat on my hair, I experiment. _CAN YOU HEAR ME? _The hat shifts.

_No need to shout, darling, _its voice groans inside my head. I smirk. _Well, this one might be the easiest sort I've had so far. Wild and daring, eh? … And loud. But in your subconscious… you value others' opinions and friendship more than they could imagine. Penny for my thoughts? Good friends shouldn't need to be impressed._ Then without another word, the hat cries out, "Gryffindor!" I hand the hat to the witch and run to the table. Hugo frowns at me as I push students away to make room next to Fred.

"Hello, dear brother," I say. The hat sorts the last student, Peter Yin, into Hufflepuff and the Headmistress stands.

"First of all, I give my congratulations to the new first years. We are delighted to have you here at Hogwarts. And to returning students, welcome home. I would like to remind everyone of a few of the very important rules here at Hogwarts, although I'm sure all the staff would appreciate each of you taking time to read the full list, which is available in Mr. Filch's office."

"That's one way to assure that _no one _reads it," mutters Fred.

"First of all, please do not practice jinxes, curses, or any other kind of harmful magic on others unless explicitly requested for a lesson. Also, neither stroll the hallways after nine o'clock or venture into the Forbidden Forest without responsible adult supervision. Stay away from parts of the castle that have been marked off due to- as of now- irremovable spell effects from the war. Lastly, treat your teachers and fellow classmates with respect, because we are all here for the same purpose: education and preparation of the next generation in our society. And with that, enjoy the feast."

As soon as the plates appear I grab blindly for the one in front of me. I come up with a few buttery stalks of asparagus, which promptly slip out of my hands and onto my lap. Fred snorts. Ignoring him, I toss the asparagus onto the plate. Three second rule.

After gorging down several bite-sized pastries and a slice or two of some kind of pumpkin spice cake, I notice students trickling out of the hall. My feet swing back and forth impatiently. Finally, Hugo's sister Rose stands up. Her Head Girl badge is pinned onto her robes, but when she calls, "First years! Over here!" it's in a quiet and unimposing voice. God, that girl exasperates me.

I grab a handful of tarts and stuff them in my robe pocket, then meet Rose and the other first years at the end of the Gryffindor table. "Hi, everybody. We're so glad to have you in Gryffindor." A boy slightly shorter than Rose nods at her words as he makes his way towards us. "My name is Rose, and this is Cal," the boy waves, "and we're the Head students of our house. Um, your luggage has already been delivered to your dormitories, so let's head up before the bulk of the students finish their dessert." We head out the doors and go through a labyrinth of corridors and stairs. Everyone shrieks when a staircase suddenly swings itself away from the landing and onto another one. I take a bite out of a cauldron cake and drop it, watching it fall between other staircases to land in the great hall where another group of students nearly walk over it, cry out, then look up angrily.

Eventually we reach the painting covering the entrance to the common room. The Fat Lady gasps in a feminine manner that makes me roll my eyes. "New first years!" A few kids say hello timidly.

"_Umquam Audacior_*," says Rose. The Fat Lady winks at us as the painting slides to reveal the Gryffindor common room. Tapestries flaunting scarlets and golds cover the wall of the round room I know to be at the tip of one of the castle's towers. Flames dance in the huge fireplace, and cushiony, yet tarnished and torn, armchairs and couches, along with a few tables, are randomly placed on the rug that spreads across the entire area. In back are two adjacent staircases that must lead to the dormitories.

"Girls to the left, boys on the right," says Cal. "First year dormitories are the closest ones to the landing. You and your roommates are responsible for blowing out the candles, but I'd suggest you do it sooner rather than later as you have a long day tomorrow." And so the group splits.

"Is it true that this becomes a slide when a boy tries to climb it?" asks a girl who I think is named something like Kelly or Kayla. She gestures to the stairs.

"Yeah," replies Rose, cracking a smile. Gears whir in my head.

As I sit down on the bed where I found my trunk, I realize I am exhausted. I kick my trunk down to the floor and grab my nightclothes. I'm about to fall asleep before ten for the first time in ages when I hear Kalie's voice say, "So, I'm not sure if I caught everyone's name."

A girl re-plaiting her hair pipes up. "Um, hi, I'm Asha. Asha Dubashi."

Kyla nods and smiles.

"I'm Eden Mockley," says a heavy-looking girl with brown pigtails.

"And I'm Mackenzie Thomas," says the one in the bed next to mine, with cornrow braids tied in a ponytail. She was one of the people who was in my boat.

A moment of silence follows until I realize they're waiting for me. "Oh. Er, Roxane Weasley."

"Cool!" says Kiki. "My name is Kalli Brown-Murphy." Oh. Okay. Kalli. She yawns extra wide, probably for effect. "Wow, tiring day. You mind if I go to bed?"

"Yeah, same," says Eden. Someone blows out the candle. Awww, what responsible, obedient girls...

I'm suddenly not sleepy anymore.

* * *

* "Ever bolder" in Latin.


	4. Chapter 4

-Rose-

He's watching me. I know he is. Blood rushes to my cheeks as they turn almost as bright as my hair. I glance at him once again before a throat clears behind me.

"Miss Weasley, your schedule." I take the timetable and unroll it, propping my elbows on the table.

"Whatcha got?" asks Maria, my best friend. She nearly tears the new parchment as she lines it up with hers. "Pretty good, we've got charms, astronomy, and potions together… that's good, I wouldn't want to be in potions alone… both my electives too- Muggle studies and magical creatures! But double potions today- with the Slytherins, probably, we're always paired with them for that."

She lets go of the timetable and I take it back into my hands. I stare at it. Somehow I had always managed taking nearly every elective, as well as magical theory class on Saturday mornings, with relative ease. I even was allowed into Alchemy, a N.E.W.T. class, and in line for a Time Turner once the new set from the Department of Mysteries are perfected. Sure, I get stressed sometimes, don't we all? But I'm not quite as confident about how I'll handle it this year. I'll be spending every free hour studying for the exams. Ten O.W.L.'s, just like my mother. That has been my goal- our goal- as long as I can remember. Education is incredibly important, and who wouldn't try to be the best they could be? Besides, I love it. I love almost all of my classes and am so excited when I learn a new spell or decipher a message in rune.

Still, I don't know if I can pull it off this year. Thirteen classes, with eleven possible O.W.L.'s? I sigh and grab a piece of toast.

After breakfast, I take another look at my timetable. The first class of my fifth year will be Transfiguration.

As I enter the classroom, I see some classmates are already there, sitting on the desks, laughing and talking about their summer. James, waves to me from the spot in the back corner that is occupied in every classroom by he and the other rebellious Gryffindors in class. I nod back at him, smiling, but continue to the front row. I busy myself by setting up my inkpot and selecting a new quill and this year's textbook from my bag. I trace the title with my finger: Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three. I've flipped through it a few times since I got it in Diagon Alley, and I'm pretty excited about the stuff we'll be learning this year- no more pincushions. It's getting real now.

The noisy chatter of the students dwindles as Professor McGonagall enters. She's the one teacher with the power to expel any of us, regardless of house. The room is silent but for the clicking of her shoes and rustles from the shelves on either side full of animal cages. The headmistress reaches the front of the classroom and turns to face us. She clears her throat.

I'm back where I belong.

By the time I'm heading briskly down the stairs to the dungeon, I've been assigned a reading and response for both Transfiguration and alchemy, a research project on a carnivorous flower, two feet of runes to translate, two charms to practice, and a bowtruckle diagram to finish. And knowing how Professor Nott expected as much as his predecessor in teaching the subject did, I'm going to have a long evening ahead of me.

After a long speech essentially identical to one in every class I've had today, we get started making a potion from our practical exam last year because Professor Nott had "figured most of you (pointed looks at various Gryffindors) will be rusty and need to review".

I'm on the second of seven spins counterclockwise when I feel a sharp sting on the back of my neck. I ignore it and keep stirring. But it happens again. And again. I twirl around to hear chuckles from behind me. Scorpius smirks as he takes another unripe mistletoe berry from his pouch and points his wand at it, making it levitate. With a jerk of his wand it too shoots toward me, but I hold up my potions book and it ricochets off. "What the hell, Malfoy?"

He leans over his cauldron to pull one of my long red braids. "You're cute when you're angry."

I open my mouth to retort when a ghastly fume fills the air. "Miss Weasley, your potion."

Snickers chorus around the Slytherin tables. I turn to my abandoned cauldron and wince. Instead of the pale blue described in the instructions, the potion was spitting a thick black substance into the air as it boils. Yet more heat crawls up my neck to join the furious flush on my cheeks as I pick up my wand and whisper, "Scourgify."

Nott's cloak brushes my shoulder as he comes to stand before me. He raises his eyebrow. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor, Weasley, for your failed attempt at a fourth-year potion. And another ten for disrupting other students on their own."

James slams his fist on the table and his navy blue potion releasing a steady cloud of steam spills over the side of his cauldron. "Malfoy was provoking her, sir!"

Nott spins on his heel. "Mr Potter, are you offering another ten?"

I sit, embarrassed and infuriated simultaneously, and read through some potion-making strategy articles in my book while the others collect what they managed to do in glass vials. As I had predicted, Professor Nott assigns a foot of parchment on important skills and knowledge for O.W.L. potions before dismissing us. I shuffle out of the classroom with everyone else. James catches up to me in the corridor. "I can't believe him. Why do all the potion masters have to be such-" Luckily I don't hear what he says next because a thundering of footsteps cut him off from behind us. Scorpius runs past, deliberately bumping into me so I stumble and knock both my and James' books to the floor. I glance up to see Scorpius and his friends whipping past other students. Before they disappear around the corner, he stops and looks back. For a millisecond his grey eyes lock with mine, and it might have just been my imagination, but in that millisecond they were filled with remorse.


	5. Chapter 5

-Lily II-

After my last class, I dash to the Slytherin's common room to grab what I'll need for homework. When I reach the bit of wall in a dungeon hallway I'm pretty sure is the entrance, I mumble, "_mono to kalytero_*" and the stone bricks slide in then to either side. I step into the common room and jump at the sound of the wall moving back into place. A few students are gathered around the fire, reading the Daily Prophet and comparing homework answers. They glance at me as I navigate around tall-backed leather armchairs then return to their activities. Their exchanged whispers cause me to scurry to my dormitory yet faster.

I almost get lost trying to find the library, but as soon as I enter I am embraced by the endless rows of shelves crowded with old books and the tranquility-slash-business of people working: footsteps muffled by the paper around them and occasional hushed conversations, only slightly echoed by the incredibly high ceiling. I tiptoe through a row toward the back where I can glimpse a few tables where I can sit down and work on my infinity of assignments. Lucy and Al beckon me over to where they are hunched over an ancient book practically falling apart.

"How's your first day going?" asks Lucy, conspicuously avoiding looking at the green serpent on my robes.

I nod my head. Now I realize I haven't been able to speak to my brother since the train ride last night. "And you? What do you think of your new classes?"

"Alright… 'xept for divination. What a load of rubbish." She shakes her head with an exasperated chuckle and bends down to get her bag. "Well, I'm outta here. I haven't quite adjusted to the vigorous school-year mindset yet. Maybe I'll head up to the common room, see what James and everyone are up to. Wanna come?" she says, but then remembers and bites her lip. I can't come. I will never set foot in the same common room as my entire family. Never cheer for the red and gold flecks tearing around the Quidditch pitch, never sit at the Gryffindor table and laugh as Freddie pulls off an exaggerated impression of Professor Nott.

Al hesitates before replying, "Nah, I'd better stay here and finish my homework. Already lost a few points for a certain prediction in divination." Lucy suffocates her snickers, and I have a general idea of what he said that blew off their teacher.

Once Lucy leaves, Al leans in toward me. I close my book.

"You okay?" he asks.

I look over at him. "Yeah." I pick up my quill before I realize I have no idea what I just read. Al is still looking at me cynically. "Well, it's just... weird, you know? My whole life I'd never doubted- we never doubted, the whole wizarding world never doubted- that Lily Luna Potter would be sorted into the same house as everybody in her stupid, famous, _Gryffindor_ family of celebrities. Why can't I be with you, Al? What did I do wrong?"

My brother listens with a sympathetic expression on his face that makes me want to both hug and punch him. He chooses his words carefully: "Lily… the Sorting Hat sorted you as it did for a reason. It is very wise, and I trust it. Look, just because you're not in Gryffindor doesn't mean we're all going to stop spending time with you, loving you."

"Don't lie to me, Albus. Lucy could barely look at me."

Al sighs. "Just give her time. I've never understood all this cross-house rivalry, anyway. Slytherins can be just as good as Gryffindors- better, even. And I can see why you were sorted into that house- you're ambitious, and clever, and disciplined- hey, you even taught yourself to read before—"

"I AM NOT A SLYTHERIN!" I roughly sweep my books and parchment into my bag and kick the chair away from the table. Al watches me with that look of his as I pushed past a glaring Madam Pince and leave the library.

* * *

* (modified) Greek for "only the best"

**Short chapter, I know. Sorry. It just seemed to end well here. So for anyone who has been sticking with me, sorry that i'm not updating often. I'm on vacation somewhere where I only just got WiFi, and not very good WiFi at that. But trust me, I've been writing…or trying to write, you know how it is. So, um, hope you liked this chapter, and a new one is coming soon! But, I thought I might add a sneak peek here, since I feel like I cheated you guys a bit:**

-Roxane-

It's the morning of our second day of school. Defense against the Dark Arts, our first class ever. Waiting outside the locked door of the classroom, students buzz excitedly: who's the new teacher?

The old defense professor, Slughorn, retired last spring (from what I've heard, it was about time, too). And after a scan of the staff table, Freddie reported his replacement had not been at any of the meals. So I'm guessing either a very depressed ghost or a talking flobberworm.

The doorknob jiggles and the semicircle of first years around it take a step back. A collective breath is held as the door slowly opens inward, then everyone (even me) widens their eyes.


End file.
